Page 66 of Betray Me
“Belle?” Max catches my arm as I start walking faster. “What did he say?”
I show him the message, watching his face transform from concern to something approaching terror. “We need to get back. Now.”
The walk across campus feels like navigating a minefield. Every student we pass could be a threat. Every staff member could be reporting our movements. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being observed from every shadow.
My dorm room door is standing slightly ajar when we reach it.
“I locked it,” I whisper, my heart hammering against my ribs. “I always lock it.”
Max pushes me behind him, his body tense with protective instinct. “Stay back.”
He nudges the door open with his foot, revealing my room in pristine condition. Nothing appears to be disturbed, nothing stolen or vandalized. But on my desk, arranged with deliberate precision, sits a single black envelope.
My name is written across it in elegant script.
“Don’t touch it,” Max warns, but I’m already moving forward. Whatever message awaits inside, whatever threat or revelation, I need to know.
The paper inside is expensive, heavy stock that whispers of old money and older power. The message is brief:
Congratulations on your parents’ conviction. Your performance was exemplary. But the real game is just beginning. You’ve been an unwitting player for far too long. Soon, you’ll have an opportunity to meet the architect of your destiny.
It’s unsigned, but at the bottom of the page is a small sketch of the same symbol we found carved into the boat.
My legs give out, and I sink into my desk chair, the letter trembling in my hands. All this time, while I thought I was fighting for justice, for freedom, I was still dancing to someone else’s tune. The Architect—whoever they are—hasbeen orchestrating events from the beginning. My rebellion, my testimony, even my relationship with Max… it’s all been part of some larger plan I can’t see.
“Belle?” Max’s voice seems to come from very far away. “What does it say?”
I hand him the letter, watching his face drain of color as he reads. When he looks up, his eyes are blazing with protective fury.
My phone buzzes with a text from Detective Harper:On our way. Secure location and wait for backup.
But as I stare at the letter in Max’s hands, at the threat against the first person I’ve ever truly loved, I know that we’re in way over our heads.
Chapter 24: Hidden Threats
Now
The morning air bites at my exposed skin as I round the final curve of the coastal path, my breathing steady despite the burn in my lungs. Running has become my meditation over the past few months—the rhythmic pounding of my feet against the worn stone, the salt spray from the waves below, the way the Gothic spires of Shark Bay University emerge from the morning mist like something from a dream.
Or a nightmare, depending on the day.
I slow to a walk as I approach the main campus, using my sleeve to wipe the sweat from my forehead. The familiar weight of paranoia settles on my shoulders as I scan the grounds, looking for anything out of place. It’s been three weeks since the boat incident, three weeks since we discovered that symbol carved into the hull. Detective Harper assured us we were safe, that the increased security presence would deter any threats, but I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being watched.
“Belle, dear!”
I turn to see the school’s director, Selena Harpsons, approaching from the direction of the administration building, her silver hair perfectly styled despite the early hour. The school’s director has always been an imposing figure—tall, elegant, with the kind of natural authority that comes from decades of managing entitled rich kids and their equally entitled parents. Today, she’s wearing a charcoal blazer thatcomplements her cat-eyed glasses, every inch the successful academic administrator.
“Good morning, Mrs. Harpsons,” I say, forcing my breathing to return to normal. “You’re up early.”
“As are you.” Her smile is warm but assessing, the way it’s been since my return to campus after the trial. “How are you settling back in? I know it’s been nine months, but transitions such as yours aren’t easy.”
That’s putting it mildly. Returning to Shark Bay after testifying against my parents, after having my entire life dissected in federal court, feels like walking through a minefield of whispered conversations and sideways glances. Some students treat me like a tragic figure deserving of sympathy. Others act like I’m a ticking time bomb who might explode at any moment.
“Better than expected,” I lie smoothly. “The routine helps. Classes, studying, normal college things.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” She adjusts her glasses, and I catch a glint of metal in her hand. “Your professors speak highly of your academic performance. Remarkable, considering everything you’ve endured.”
The ring on her finger draws my attention—platinum, with an unusual design that makes my pulse quicken. A distinctive tooth-like shape that seems familiar, though I can’t place where I’ve seen it before. Something about it sends a chill down my spine that has nothing to do with the morning air.
